


Let Me Do My Dance

by rsadelle



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dude," Fred says, "you are not jerking off in my bed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Do My Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ninja_orange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninja_orange/gifts).



> Way back in September, Tyler Seguin and a bunch of his bros went to a Patriots game. The next morning, Segs tweeted a picture of a shirtless Fred that was clearly taken from Fred's bed. At some point, I promised to write ninja_orange jerk off porn that takes place between those two events. Title from Nicki Minaj's "Va Va Voom."
> 
> Thanks to ninja_orange for talking out details with me (even though she didn't know what I was doing with them) and for suggesting I look at Nicki Minaj lyrics for a title. Thanks to puckling for keeping the anti lockout squee open for a last week of last things and for making me laugh with her suggestions for title finding methods.

Tyler puts his phone on the nightstand and very carefully drapes his clothes over the chair. He's going to have to wear them home tomorrow, and he doesn't want them to be a total mess. Also, he's kind of drunk and it takes some effort to get them draped neatly.

Fred's bed is great. It's soft, the heat is on so it's warm, and it's just big enough that Tyler can lie down in it and still leave room for Fred.

It's comfortable, and Tyler sinks down into it a little more and rubs himself through his boxer briefs. It's not like football makes him horny. It's more like they've been drinking and he's comfortable, and getting off would just make the whole evening that much better.

"Dude," Fred says, "you are not jerking off in my bed."

"Not yet."

"I have to sleep there." Fred pulls his shirt off and throws it in the direction of the closet.

"You jerk off here." Tyler doesn't stop touching himself, and he idly watches the flex of Fred's muscles as he takes off his jeans and throw them toward the closet too.

"It's my bed. Come on, dude."

"You come on," Tyler says. He slips his hand under his waistband. "If you do it too, it'll be you jerking off in your bed."

"You'll still be doing it too." Fred lies down next to Tyler and jabs him with an elbow.

Tyler jabs him back. "I'm going to do it no matter what you do." He doesn't close his eyes, because it's not like he needs some fantasy or something to do it for him. His hand on his dick is pretty much good enough.

"You're such an asshole," Fred says.

Tyler snickers for a moment, and then he says, "Come on, this'll be the hottest thing that's ever happened in your bed."

Tyler's watching, so he sees Fred close his eyes for a second, and he knows even before Fred opens them that he's going to give in.

"That might actually be true," Fred says with a sadness that's totally faked. Or at least half faked.

Tyler grins at him. "See? You don't want to let this opportunity pass you by."

"The opportunity to jerk off with you? Yeah, I'm sure that's a real rare thing." Fred's still chirping him, but he's also getting a hand on his dick, and Tyler watches him out of the corner of his eye as he gets hard.

Tyler hasn't jerked off with anyone in way longer than it's been since he last got laid, and it's kind of nice not being alone. His underwear's getting in his way and Fred's gone along with everything else so far, so he tugs his boxer briefs down to his thighs, just far enough that he can easily jerk off.

Fred looks at him, sighs, and then shoves his underwear down too. Fred's grip is a little looser than Tyler likes, but he's not all the way hard yet, so maybe that's just how he likes it to start.

"We're not even going to watch porn?" Fred asks after a little bit.

Tyler shrugs, and keeps stroking himself. He likes porn as much as the next guy, but he doesn't really need it to get off. Too many years of close quarters and trying not to draw attention to his alone time.

"Right," Fred says. "Big NHL star, I bet you have all kinds of shit you've done with girls in your spank bank."

"Some," Tyler admits. "I wasn't really thinking about it." He twists his palm over the head of his cock. It's starting to get a little slick. "I'm a simple guy. Hand on my dick. That's all I need."

Fred snorts. "Yeah, your car really says simple." Then he lets go of his dick and leans over Tyler, his shoulder brushing Tyler's chest, and opens the drawer of his nightstand. He rummages around for a second, still right there where Tyler can kind of smell him, and comes up with a tube of K-Y. "You want some?"

"No."

Fred settles back onto his side of the bed and squeezes some of lube onto his hand. "Suit yourself." He lets out a sigh as he starts jerking himself again.

"You really like that better?"

"You really don't?"

Tyler grins. "I told you, I'm a simple guy."

"A stupid guy," Fred says. "It's way better wet."

Tyler says, "Nope," and keeps jerking himself dry. He's tried it, but it's not the same, and he's down for familiar right now. He's not so drunk he won't be able to come, but he's probably drunk enough that it might take a while, and he's not making it take even longer by doing something different.

"Suit yourself." Fred's closer now, so half the time he jerks himself, his elbow rubs against Tyler's side. It's nice, reminds him there's someone else there.

They jerk off without talking for a while. It's warm enough that Tyler wouldn't be getting that cold even if he weren't getting hot from jerking it, and he's feeling kind of lazy about it now, relaxed and chill and happy about stroking himself without the urgent need to come.

He doesn't realize he's kind of zoning out on watching Fred's hand move until Fred says, "Taking notes?"

"You should take notes," Tyler says, before he realizes how dumb that sounds. "Shut up," he mutters at Fred's smirk. "You should be glad. This is the hottest thing to ever happen in this bed."

"You already said that."

"And you said it was true." Tyler strokes himself a little harder. "So enjoy it."

"Yeah, yeah," Fred mutters, but he's also stroking himself harder, so it doesn't mean much.

Tyler's pretty quiet when he jerks off, because he's used to billets and thin walls and roommates, but Fred's louder. At least when he's getting close. He moans a little, and gasps, and it's not like in porn, but it might be better because it sounds real and it's right there.

He sounds kind of stupid, with his, "Oh, yeah," when he comes, but it's still kind of like porn happening right in front of Tyler, so it's still hot when he comes on his hand and stomach.

Tyler jerks himself with more purpose, not trying to draw it out anymore, and he does better than Fred at catching most of his spunk in his hand. He's pretty dizzy after, from being drunk and coming, and he doesn't do anything to clean himself up until Fred leans over him again to drop the K-Y on the nightstand and grab a couple of tissues. He drops a few of them on Tyler's stomach too, so he wipes his hand and dick clean and drops them over the side of the bed. There's a trash can there, and he probably got it right.

Tyler sinks into the bed a little more, until Fred nudges him with an elbow before he leans over to throw his tissues away. "Pull your underwear up."

"Why?"

"Because it's bad enough you jerked off in my bed; you're not sleeping in here without it."

"You fucking loved it." It takes more energy than Tyler wants to expend to get his boxer briefs all the way on, but he does it, and Fred's got his on and is turning out the light, and that means Tyler can turn onto his side and spoon up against Fred. He tucks his knees into Fred's and puts his arm around Fred's waist, because it's better that way. He tries to keep his hand high enough that it's not resting in whatever's left of Fred's spunk on his stomach, but he's not sure he's managing it.

Fred yanks the comforter up over them. "You're even handsier after you've come."

"Don't front," Tyler says. "You love it." He's pretty sure that Fred making sure the comforter is over both their shoulders and not shoving him away means he really does.


End file.
